Simply Diseased
by KCKidCandy
Summary: Byoki has never been more lost. After the vicious killing of her family and her own attempted murder, witness protection moves her to Ikebukuro. It takes all of her will to move on, but what excitement will occur in her brand new life? ShizuoXOC
1. Chapter 1

This is a pet project iI've been woking on for a day or so because I recently discovered just how amazing DRRR is! I hope you enjoy reading it. Leave a review if you want more!

* * *

><p><em>Her feet pounded down the checkered, lacquer hallways, slick with sweat and gnarled with thick calluses. Lengthy hair of sable onyx cascaded from her scalp in wispy helixes as she sprinted towards the French-style double doors. Just beyond that was safety. Just beyond the threshold was help. But her feet could not thunder away fast enough to escape the twisted hand that reached towards her. Clad in black, a young man twined his lanky fingers about the massive clump of tangles sharply. The young woman was yanked backwards and heaved to the floor viciously. Her attacker drew something of shimmering silver from his pocket. It was the blade of a razor, somber and solemn in the man's gloved hands. He took the edge, balanced between two fingers, and slid it down the flesh of her wrists vertically before stalking out the door.<em>

_Scarlet flowed from her veins like water through a stream. It pooled about her knees and legs, enveloping her huddled body. She reached forward with five trembling fingers. Nails dug into white tile, turning it vibrant maroon. She clawed towards the small cherry wood coffee table, vision blurred from blood loss. The cherry colored life-force that dribbled from her forearms left big streaks on the floor as she struggled to reach her cellular phone. She gripped the thin black square with all her strength, which wasn't much anymore. Her gangly fingers dialed the three numbers necessary to survival just before all traces of light fled from the room._

XxXxXxX

Eyes of gold fluttered open as the rest of her frail body shot upward. The young woman rocketed across cold, unforgiving, stone floor. Her body was wrecked with violent shivers, rippling up and down her spine like waves of illness. She stationed herself above a cracked, porcelain sink as her face greened. With a sickly heave, the terrible nightmare was flushed from her body. Her breath began to slow, loosing its shortness and returning to normal. She wiped her thin lipped mouth on a stained blue towel. It was rough against her cheeks and smelt of soured milk. She turned to the glittering mirror behind her and frowned at the reflection.

Her face was hardly attractive, plain and boring. A pale body, thin to the point of wayward bones jutting from beneath her fair skin, grimaced back at her. Her skinny appearance had come from a short, but extreme, bout of bulimia. The same jet hued hair dripped from her skull, though it had been chopped boyishly short. It curled lightly and stuck out every which way, adding a dash of sweetness. She had draped a loose ashen tank top over her jagged shoulders that cut off at the knee and ace bandage was twined around each of her wrists. There were scars of various shapes and sizes traveling up and down her torso, arms, and legs in blotchy patches of darkened flesh.

Byoki was the name witness protection had given to her. That was the name she was stuck with for the rest of her life. In itself, the name meant disease and ailment. But she wasn't complaining, she was simply happy to be alive.

Doctors dubbed it a miracle that Byoki had lost most of the blood in her body but still survived. Not to mention, the other attempts to slaughter herself while she was in a mental hospital. The murder of her family had occurred at sixteen, two years of witness protection and grueling therapy later, she arrived in Ikebukuro under the name Kokkaku Byoki. She missed her mother and father a loathsome amount, but no one was yearned for more than her baby sister. Byoki loved the six year old child more than anything. Every night she relived that initial terror, and nervous breakdowns were a daily event. But that would not stop her from living.

Byoki gripped the rust coated shower knob and turned it down. Stepping out, she realized just how deceitful the living space was. Her apartment was far less than lovely. The walls were chipped, revealing huge tears of chilling, red brick. Byoki walked in big strides across the simple, cement floor. She lived on the first story in a notorious area, populated by a group known as the Yellow Scarves. It surprised her how exciting Ikebukuro was in the few days she'd been there. Byoki had faced being attacked in an alleyway, hit by a car, and recruited by a feminist color gang.

But today, none of that mattered. Nothing would get in the way of her goal for the week. Byoki was Hell-bent on finding a job. If she didn't find some income soon, she wouldn't be able to pay rent. Though she had over three weeks left and was only about fifty dollars short, paranoia heavily affected her money issues. Witness protection suggested she find a job in the new environment that fit her skills. Unfortunately, Byoki had no talents. The only thing she was decent at was cooking, and even then she certainly wasn't a master chef. With any luck, she'd be able to find a decent job in the food industry.

Byoki finished toweling off her silky hair and tugged a thin, purple, dress shirt over her torso. She spat out a glittery, red retainer before smiling out her boarded window. Rays of golden sunlight drifted through the hunks of maple wood keeping her apartment in a manner that screamed 'Abandoned'. Byoki pulled a pair of heavy black pants over plaid boxer shorts lazily. The young woman packed her pockets with a wallet, keys, and, most importantly, an impressively barbed pocketknife before heading out the door with a determined look plastered upon her lanky face.


	2. Chapter 2

Surprisingly enough, this got quite a lot of alerts and favorites! Though I really would enjoy some reviews, I think I will be continuing. For now at least. Anyway, enjoy and feel free to give suggestions or even flames if you feel like it. Thanks for reading~!

* * *

><p>Byoki rushed back into her apartment nervously, slamming the door behind her. She fell to her knees, digging feverishly at her bed spread. How could she have left without it? Her floor-bound mattress was heaved from its place on the cement viciously. A small fragment of red ribbon lay motionless on the floor. Byoki exhaled calmly and tied the string around her ring finger in a cutesy bow. It was the only memory of her family left. The silken strip came from her sister's favorite blanket. She'd stolen it from an evidence box; it was the only one unscathed by blood. Without it Byoki was unable to leave her home for more than a few minutes. The way it felt upon her flesh was comforting; it reminded her of the most important thing she needed. Love. She was determined to find it somewhere. It was truly her inspiration to keep living and it was represented by the tiny line of red.<p>

Once she was finished reminiscing, Byoki hurried back out the door. She stepped onto the sidewalk with apprehension; skin bristled by the chill of morning. A thin layer of smog drifted above Ikebukuro peacefully as she walked. Her footsteps were soft and quiet as she'd forgotten to put shoes on that day like many others. She had started the bad habit over ten years ago and, for some strange reason, often completely forgot shoes were in existence. Fortunately, her feet had become so callused and tough that stepping on broken glass didn't even hurt. If she happened to remember it was frowned upon to leave the house without them, Byoki would try to find a pair of sandals or socks that she normally ended up losing. This was just one of the many strange mannerisms she'd developed over the years. For such a plain looking woman, Byoki was actually very interesting. It seemed as though what she lacked in appearance, she made up for in personality.

Of course, it wasn't always that way. During the two years she spent in a mental hospital, Byoki was notorious for her severe paranoia. She claimed that the institute had taken her away from her family and that they were still alive. She hurt anyone that came too close or tried to touch her to the point of nearly killing a man. Her nightmares were sometimes so vivid she refused to leave the room and would stay up all night, staring at the wall in a distant manner. She peered so intently it was almost as though she weren't just looking at a plain white surface; it appeared that she was reliving what she'd been through. Byoki had frequent violent outbursts and threatened a guard with a knife because he looked at her wrong. She was placed in a rubber walled room more often than not, kept away from sharp things until her mind finally calmed. But instead of becoming mild again, she sunk into a deep depression.

Byoki hallucinated so lucidly that she wore a blindfold everywhere in order to ease her mind just a tiny bit. Soon after the illusions ceased, her violent streak and her depression mixed together. Things became so hectic her therapist thought she'd become bi-polar. She slowly lost her grip on the line between real and fictitious. In a final attempt to reel Byoki back to reality, her therapist ordered the police station to send the box evidence to his office.

_"Byoki, there's something I'd like to show you. Alright?" an older man with piercing sapphire eyes looked at the young child in his office. She had curled her body to make a lumpy ball of flesh, spine sticking out from beneath her mint green gown jaggedly. Beneath a thick veil of curly raven hair lay two nervous eyes of vibrant gold jolted around the room as if following the trail of a nonexistent bumblebee. She shook her head sharply and burrowed deeper into the soft, velure cushions. Byoki muttered something, halfway between a hiss and a growl. Her mind had deteriorated so much the therapist had trouble looking at her. This was his last chance to tug her away from the fiery bowels of insanity. A middle aged policeman set down a hefty white box with 'Case #909' scrawled on it. There were other details sketched on it the label, but none that were able to be understood._

_The mild mannered therapist reached out to Byoki and gripped her thin hand lightly. She slammed her teeth down on his fingers in a mix of anger and fear. Fortunately, a pair of leather gloves surrounded his hands and protected him from receiving anything more than a bruise. In less than a week, the child would be dubbed both sane and sociable or a danger to herself and others. Most shrinks would have given up on Byoki by now, but not him. He had never lost someone before and he wasn't about to now. The heavy feeling of doubt and apprehension hung in the air, but the therapist pressed on. Byoki mumbled a word neither here nor there and unfurled from her balled up position. She followed her counselor over to the box, slowly inspecting it before removing the top. The scent of stale blood and what used to be drifted through the thin plastic bags that covered each item._

_"Alright, let's allow her some time alone." the therapist led an unsure deputy from his office. Byoki dug through the box, finding the razor blade that had ruined her wrist, the shattered mirror fragment used to shred her father's flesh, and the pillow used to cease her mother's breathing among other things. Each piece was a terrifying memory; each once beloved item recalled the sadness that darkened her heart. At the very bottom lay the only two remaining possessions of her sister, a brightly colored diary with a unicorn on the cover and a small white blanket with red bows placed randomly on it's surface. Byoki extended a shaking hand and plucked both crisp bags from their place. She opened the one containing her sibling's journal and slid her fingers over the slick cover. It fell open to the fifth page before she had a chance to declare it useless and foreign._

_'Dear diary, today me and my sister got ice cream! She's so nice to me, I love her! We talked about boys all the way home. She said never to let one hit me and to tell her if one did. I don't get why, but I said I would tell her. I didn't tell her about who I like because I was scared! What if she tells someone? Well, I know she won't, but I'm not going to take any chances with other people! I hope one day he and I fall in love and have a big family with lots of babies. All I want is to have a boy love me, because love is great! If I had one wish, I'd wish for a boy to love me and for one to love my sister! I have to go now, diary! I hope you find love too!' the entry was written inked bright purple, smudged in some areas and clean in others. At the very bottom was a childish illustration of someone with extremely short black hair holding the hand of a blonde man. Tears began to spatter the page much to Byoki's confusion. She had not yet realized her eyes had swelled with salty water that dripped down her soft pale cheeks. But not from sadness or upset, from joy. Though every sickening detail made her realize that her old life was as dead as her family, a feeling of liberation rushed through her. She suddenly lost the desire to pick up her razor and slash her wrists before the therapist returned. She suddenly wanted to live again. Byoki felt a wave of realization and comfort wash over her despite the soul crushing truth she'd unearthed. It had always been there, hidden behind other repressed memories in the very back of her subconscious, but now she knew. Now she had proof._

Byoki quickly tugged the only clean ribbon off her sister's blanket, letting it sift between her digits softly. She fastened to her ring finger, recalling the old habit people had of tying ribbons around their appendages to signify something that needed to be remembered. Her sister's dream had been to find love for the both of them and an untimely death wasn't going to stop that. Even if it killed her, Byoki was going to find love. What her sister wanted was what she wanted, no matter what. Maybe finding love would finally give Byoki a sense of accomplishment. The moment she began that quest was the moment her sanity began to reform. Day by day she was able to let go of her old violently depressed persona and adopt a new carefree one. By the time her hearing came, she was able to speak clearly and mindfully. Byoki had been allowed to leave the mental hospital after six more months of grievance counseling and group help from the psych ward.

"Hey! You, pretty lady!" a set of loud cries shattered Byoki's thoughts. Someone slammed into her violently and upon further inspection, Byoki realized she'd left behind the gang-infested area her route had gone through. The pavement around her was filled with people every shape, size, age, and disposition. Some pushed and shoved to reach their destination speedily while others took on a more leisurely pace. Men in business suites and young girls in school uniforms traversed the concrete with cellular phones pressed to their ears while a bunch of shady looking boys with yellow bandanas strode through the heavily populated streets.

"Pretty girl!" the howl came again. Byoki paused for a split-second before continuing to walk. No one would ever call her a pretty, not when she looked the way she did. The only thing signifying her status as a female was a pair of nearly nonexistent breasts and a distinctly feminine face. Someone went shooting by so quickly it knocked Byoki onto the damp ground. By this time, her mind was reeling from all the new information. The memory of that hospital had obviously blinded her.

Two heavy hands gripped her waist and heaved her back into a standing position. An amazingly intimidating man with charcoal skin pushed a flyer with a picture of an octopus on it at Byoki. She stumbled backwards, the sounds of Ikebukuro's population burrowing their way into her ears sharply.

"I help you up, so you eat at Russia Sushi, da?" the strange man asked, obviously new to the language he spoke. He seemed to be oblivious to the terror Byoki was currently experiencing and continued happily pressing her further towards one of the sushi shop's main windows. Everything had become so overwhelming Byoki wished she could go back to her peaceful thoughts. Even if they were about something terrible and horrid, it was better than her current situation. The man cornering her wasn't scary himself; it was simply the sheer volume at which information was entering her fragile mind. Her breathing became short and Byoki feared she would fall into a panic attack if she didn't calm herself. The man took yet another step forwards, forcing Byoki to pivot and run smack into the huge wall of glass behind her. And, knowing her luck, it shattered upon impact.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm still determined to write this despite the disappointing amount of reviews! If you're reading this, why not leave me some love(or even hate) for my story? Thanks to those who've added this to their favorites and alerts, that means a lot too. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the third chapter or Simply Diseased as much as I enjoyed writing it.

~KC

* * *

><p>Byoki lay on the cold, tiled flooring, every malnourished muscle in her body pulsing with a dull yet searing pain. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been so out of breath. Though she really wasn't tending to many people, Byoki wasn't used to such activity. She glanced at the clock with a happy sigh, only thirty minutes remained before her shift ended.<p>

_"Well, seeing as you don't have the money, I will allow you to work off your debt." the owner of Russian Sushi, a gray haired man who shared the same accent as Simon, pushed a blue and white frock over the sushi bar to Byoki. The young woman had wrapped yet another bandage about her, this one traveling across her forehead. It was stained with fresh blood and the wound beneath it was deep despite being small. A wayward shard of glass had sliced her while she was being helped off a startled couple's table. Luckily, the only markings on her back were pieces of rice and raw fish._

_"Of course. Again, I am unexplainably sorry about this entire ordeal. It was completely my fault, I'm new to Ikebukuro and everything started happening at one time... I'm really sorry!" Byoki's face tinted with dark scarlet as she spoke. It was her first real day in the city and she'd already managed to destroy something. Now she'd missed an interview with a maid cafe and, seeing as waitress salaries are quite low, probably wouldn't be able to pay rent. But, it was her fault for being so skittish. Byoki hugged the uniform to her chest with an uneven sigh. She stood to bow at the elderly foreign man, feeling an unexplainable amount of embarrassment crash down on her shoulders._

_"Come back at six. You'll work until ten thirty, clean up, and close the shop. There's a key with your uniform, Sunday is your day off, and we'll send you on delivery when necessary." he remarked, watching Byoki bite her lip with apprehension. She nodded obediently before pivoting on her heels and headed out the door._

The ring of a bell brought her back to a standing position. Byoki teetered on her slick, bare feet, pausing to catch her breath before stepping out of Russian Sushi's well-stocked storeroom. She plucked a thin square plate off the bar and looked around, clueless. If only she'd kept better watch over whom she was serving. Byoki nervously offered the food to a group of innocent looking students in hopes they were the correct customers. She skirted over to the next table after grabbing two handleless, blue teacups and a kettle of green tea. The woman removed a thick red pen from between her ear and skull and tugged a yellow notepad out of her uniform. Normally, someone working with so few customers wouldn't need anything to keep track of orders, but Byoki was so easily overwhelmed she liked to keep things organized. She shook the loose strands of hair from her forehead and put on a smile before looking up to take orders.

A man, easily in his early twenties, pulled a pair of cobalt tinted sunglasses from the bridge of his nose. He had messy hair of light blonde, as if someone had poured a carton of bleach over his head. It fell into a pair of caramel colored eyes which held much kinder feelings than the cold blue glasses sitting beside him. His face was masculine and strong, yet unscathed by any hint of blemishes current or otherwise. He was dressed in a standard bartender's suit, a black vest and bow tie draped over a thin white shirt and straight legged sable pants. This thoroughly revealed his strong physique, toned and attractive. But Byoki was most taken back by his height. She wasn't sure whether he was extremely lengthy, she was extremely short, or it was a disappointing combination of the two. Either way, he was nearly taller than her sitting down.

Byoki felt a sudden jolt of nervousness ripple through her entrails, one that she hadn't felt in many years. It was strange, so much so she wasn't sure if it was ailment or joy. Her palms began to tremor and ooze lightly with perspiration in a manner that left Byoki baffled and confused. She wiped her hands on the loose fitting outfit, glancing up to see the young man staring straight at her.

"W-what can I get you?" she stuttered, poising a thick red pen above a pad of paper with an unsteady hand.

"Something cheap..." a gruff voice answered. The young man turned his attention back to the miraculously replaced window. Byoki had been endlessly surprised by the speed at which a perfectly cut sheet of glass and a team of workers had arrived to fix her mistake. Now, you wouldn't have even known it had been broken earlier that day. However, having the restoration occur so promptly meant Byoki would be working for a bit longer than she should. She felt so ashamed for doing such a thing she would gladly work at Russian Sushi for the rest of her life in hopes of finding redemption.

"Tea?" Byoki pointed to the kettle kindly. He waved his hand absentmindedly as if to ask 'Why not?' without actually speaking. She rested her gangly fingers on the side of the metal cylinder and frowned. It was far too chilled to taste correct. Silently, she cursed herself for not being better at keeping things in order. She kept a record of all the food made and still couldn't remember which table asked for what. Byoki disappeared behind a thick, velvet curtain and came back about ten minutes later with a fresh, steaming, pot of green tea. On her way to the table she asked the chef to prepare a meal that happened to be the exact opposite of what the man requested. He looked so lonely from where Byoki stood, solemn and silent as he waited for someone or something to come or happen. There was an angry yet longing look plastered upon him that, with any luck, she would be able to cure. After being violent and withheld for so long, Byoki decided her new identity would act as she did before the murder. Kind, and sweet, and endlessly optimistic, never getting too upset or letting an almost nonexistent temper get the best of her.

The last few people at the bar had dispersed by now, leaving small amounts of yen for Byoki and the chef. The night had yielded a disappointing amount of tips, however. Despite unending smiles and happiness, Byoki's service was mediocre at best. She had given at least four customers the wrong order and spilt tea in quite a few unexacting laps. One man had threatened to sue, a gesture that filled Byoki with terror. The job of a waitress in such an undiscovered restaurant was not a hard one, yet it offered the young, black haired woman quite a challenge. A bell was sounded once more as the talented cook hung up his uniform. He passed a feast of sushi across the empty bar before waving and heading out the door. There was a small pile of money at the end of the wooden slab which Byoki pocketed stealthily. For some reason, she felt like a criminal when picking up the wad of crumpled bills, but put all doubt aside in hopes of paying her rent punctually that month. She also grabbed the children's payment and slid it in the cash register, selecting all extra money for herself.

"Okay... And... Ta-da!" Byoki sang, pushing four plates off her arms and onto the blonde man's table.

"Now, before you say anything, it's free of charge. My treat! I've already fucked this job up thoroughly and you looked sad, so I chose the most expensive combination on the menu for us. I'll just tell my boss some kid's pulled a dine-and-dash and it was entirely my fault. He'll be none the wiser, so go ahead and eat up! Hopefully I can keep you in good company tonight." Byoki smiled warmly at the man's bewildered expression. He looked at her in a way that was almost enraged but quickly abandoned the deep set glare. The woman shook off her small blue and white hat before deciding to discard the rest of her linen uniform as well. This revealed a black tank top which would have fit tightly over any body that wasn't hers and the same pair of sturdy black pants she'd worn earlier. On her way back home earlier, Byoki had decided she'd keep comfortable beneath the tent-like kimono instead of wearing her strict and proper violet dress shirt.

"Thanks..." the man spoke softly as Byoki slipped into the seat across from him. He was far more grateful than he let on, but he wasn't sure how to deal with kindness. People only treated him with fear or coldness, either hoping not to anger him or to pick a fight with him. But the woman before him simply grinned and picked at a few packages of raw fish, rice, and various other ingredients. She pulled her knees up to her chest as they ate, giving her an increased sense of security. Paranoia still plagued Byoki's thoughts but not so much that she was still convinced everyone was out to get here. That period of life had passed long ago in her mind, though it was truly only about four months behind her. But, now, she was simply glad that her dinner acquaintance wasn't forcing any unimportant voicing of boring topics such as the weather. In fact, they sat in stony silence until each plate had been cleared. The man was busy trying to wrap his mind around Byoki's kindness, while the woman focused on trying to remember where she'd hidden her box of first edition comic books. It was a memory of her life back in America that meant a lot to her. Byoki had been infatuated by superheroes since she was ten, impressed by men with amazing strength more than those with powers.

XxXxXxX

"Don't worry about anything; it was a pleasure having dinner with you!" Byoki stacked the last plates atop each other and set them in a sink filled with soapy water. She glanced at the tower of plates looming over her with a disgruntled frown, squirting detergent upon a dish brush in a strange display of determination.

"See you around." the blonde man removed on hand from his pockets and shot a rigid wave in her direction. He headed into the neon night of Ikebukuro, passing street performers and homeless men as he walked. Byoki scrubbed each plate choppily, hoping to get back home before color gangs came out to prey on the innocent. Slowly but surely, dirty plates began to dwindle until only a bright stack of freshly washed, back slabs lay before her. She took count quickly to make sure all utensils were accounted for as she shoved each item into it's place after giving it a quick wipe to whisk away any excess moisture. In the end, it was discovered that one of the tea cups was missing from it's cupboard. Byoki glanced over at the blonde's table, eyes met by a simple green cup and a pair of sunglasses, tinged lightly with sapphire.


	4. Chapter 4

**This one's a little short, but oh well! I really wanted to get to the part when Byoki and Shizuo actually meet. It's pretty fluffy so just enjoy~! Thanks again to all the people who've reviewed and added this to their favs and alerts. Tell me if you think I'm keeping Shizuo in character, and don't be afraid to leave suggestions. Also, I tried to make the paragraphs in this chapter shorter so it's easier to read. Thanks for looking~!**

**~KC**

* * *

><p>"IZAYA!" a flash of blonde and black went roaring through the streets of Ikebukuro. He lifted a brightly colored vending machine over his shaggy haired skull and let a deep growl resonating from his throat. The man swung it sharply, acting with such strength the huge box looked like nothing more than a wooden bat. The drink dispenser slid past an onyx haired adult, one it's sharp, metal corners slicing through his furry, raven jacket. A chunk of white stuffing drifted down the crowded street. Passersby had formed a circle around the two men, just as they normally did. A trio of girls wearing angel wings flicked their cellphones out eagerly. They recorded anything that might earn them a spot on the news, hoping for a boost to their already enormous egos.<p>

"You're so much less fearsome without those glasses, Shizuo. Don't you just have the prettiest eyes?" Izaya mocked; excited to see just how much he could infuriate his opponent. He loved watching the blonde's face contort with sheer rage. Izaya adored every single emotion that traveled through his enemy; he loved every emotion felt by every human. The taunt was answered by a torn street sign which he dodged with ease. Shizuo stomped forward holding his fist cocked stiffly. He slammed the ball of fingers into an ATM, cracking its plastic shell so brutally money began shooting out into the streets. Izaya made a speedy escape, working his way through throngs of frenzied people. He scaled a small, rusted pipe and two ruby eyes disappeared over the top of an outdated apartment building.

Shizuo scowled darkly, heaving people to the side in pursuit of Izaya. He stormed over; reaching the alleyway his worst enemy had exited in to. But the bloodsucking flea was nowhere to be found. Shizuo let out a grizzling roar before planting his leather shoed foot squarely in the brick wall before him. The barrier crumbled away like old bread and his rage began to subside slowly. He placed an unlit cigarette between both lips loosely, lighting it and taking a particularly long drag.

"That was spectacular!" someone cried, their voice excited and kind. Shizuo whipped around suddenly. His caramel eyes landed on short, spiked hair, causing instant infuriation. He tightened a bloody fist after snapping his stick of nicotine and fire in half. Did Izaya honestly have the audacity to come around a second time? Shizuo charged forwards, howling something about being a bloodsucking flea. But as he neared his goal, it became apparent that the waitress from Russian Sushi had been commenting on his fighting. His knuckles impacted with cold rock, offering a sense of sheer relief. In a way he couldn't quite understand, Shizuo was glad he hadn't hit the girl. She reminded him so much of the woman at the milk shop. The one he'd never shown his face to again. The one he'd nearly killed.

"Shit..." Shizuo growled beneath his breath. Byoki smiled, removing herself from the area just beneath the blonde man's fist. She pulled his hand out of the wall softly and cupped it in her own. The child's touch was so light and kind as she inspected each one of his blood coated fingers.

"That looks bad... Here!" Byoki tugged a bandage from her pocket. Shizuo drew his hand away, turning and lighting another cigarette to hide the rosiness that had crept upon his cheeks. Why was she so kind to him? Even after seeing how much of a monster he was? Byoki appeared in front of him happily, holding out the fabric dressing. She beamed at him innocently with a child-like glint lying in her golden eyes. The girl took hold of his fingertips daintily and began to wrap the cloth around a set of scarlet knuckles.

"That was absolutely amazing! Watching you was like seeing The Hulk! The angrier you get, the stronger you get, and it's so cool. You're Shizow Hejima, right?"

"Shizuo Heiwajima." he answered in a quiet and nondescript manner. Byoki finished fixing his wound, giving it a gentle pat.

"I'm Byoki." she took Shizuo's sunglasses from their spot hanging on her shirt. Byoki slid them back on the bridge of his nose, tucking the edges behind his ears. He pushed her arms away, apprehension coursing through him. Shizuo couldn't wrap his mind around why she was so selfless. He abandoned the thought; growing a bit angry by the fact Byoki was putting his glasses on for him. She withdrew sharply after realizing the upset she was causing.

"I'm fine." Shizuo growled. He was still trying to outrun the feverish blush which remained on his cheeks.

"Alright, you should come by the shop again sometime, Shizuo! And take better care of yourself. Make sure that hand isn't broken, okay?" Byoki said, turning on her heels before sauntering away.


	5. Chapter 5

Byoki hummed as she skipped across just one of Ikebukuro's many tattered sidewalks. It was a happy song, loving and kind and untouched by the general filth of the area she walked through. The tune was a lullaby, people nearly nodding off as it drifted through vacant buildings and dirty alleyways. Byoki smiled, feeling more satisfied than she had in years. She'd spent the rest of her night seeing all the fancy stores her new town had to offer, trying on as many articles of clothing as she could before getting thrown out for not buying anything. Money wasn't a plentiful thing in her life and spending what minuscule portion of a fortune she had on needless clothing and accessories wouldn't have any sort of positive outcome.

Perhaps she could have sniffed out some bargain in the very back of a secondhand store, but her mind was involved with other things. Her rent, the threatened lawsuit, and the lie she'd tell to her boss about children stealing food, Byoki's worries went on for hours. But there was one particular thought that festered in her head. Shizuo Heiwajima. He was very different from anyone she'd met in the city so far, lacking the stereotypical traits of someone truly angry and brooding. Shizuo was easily infuriated; however, he didn't seem to be an excessively hateful person. He wasn't incapable of feeling or a bad person while still being somewhat of a brute. Byoki wasn't sure why, but she trusted him as a friend.

Byoki let her thoughts carry her away, trying to dissect Shizuo's personality as she walked. The few people she'd met so far were amazingly different. As a normal child in America she'd met odd characters before, but none as free-spirited as the people in Ikebukuro. There were legends and myths swirling around, enchanting tales of The Black Rider and the sickening story of an upcoming murderer called The Slasher. The entire city was connected like a web, networks of people sprawling and spreading like wildfire.

"Well if it isn't little Kokkaku Byoki, how interesting." a youthful, raven haired man swung down from his perch upon a rooftop. The male stretched out, seeming oddly cat-like as he yawned and cracked his knuckles. Byoki took a step back sharply, seeing the silvery pocketknife he twirled about his fingers. He was amazingly nimble, having hopped down from a high area without harming a single hair on his furry, onyx coat.

"How do you know me?" Byoki said, fingering the miniature sword sticking out of her back pocket. The paranoia she knew far too well came crawling back from the recesses of her mind. The anti-anxiety pills she took each morning normally helped pull the worries from her immediate thoughts, but strange, knife toting men coming at her in the middle of the night seemed to reactivate her apprehension.

"I know everyone in this city, Boki-Chan. I'm information broker Izaya Orihara." he sang, grinning widely. Byoki stared at the ground, frowning deeply. Izaya was the one Shizuo had been fighting, right? She'd questioned their dispute at first, but not she understood why. This man reeked of greed and lust. He yearned, not for sex or blood, but for human emotion. To watch life play out like a game and see all it had to offer up to him. Byoki didn't enjoy his presence in the slightest. He blinked at her with eerie, scarlet eyes, surveying the woman intently to take note of all her features. Izaya paused to flick his knife closed, holding it against his chin,

"Why don't you stop by my office tomorrow? We can have a little chat over lunch, I think I have some information you'll find very interesting."

"I... I don't-" Byoki began, stopping abruptly when Izaya pressed the blade of his weapon against her lips.

"Don't say no so quickly, I promise I don't bite very hard~ Come by this address at 2 o'clock tomorrow." he let out a cackle, pushing a wrinkled piece of paper into Byoki's pocket. She looked up a few seconds later to see that Izaya had disappeared without a trace. Byoki hugged her arms about her waist, her paranoia spiraling out of control.

XxXxXxXx

"Byoki! You deliver sushi now!" the very robust Russian man known as Simon came rushing out of the back room. He peered around the restaurant, glancing at the tea spattered tables Byoki was supposed to be waiting on. She happened to be absolutely terrible at her job in a rather pitiful way. Most shops had more than one waitress, but Russian Sushi wasn't a large establishment. Not to mention, Byoki's main issue was spilling things on people. Her second day at work had involved so many follies that, as punishment, the owner was forcing her to place another octopus in their tank. And, at twelve-thirty in the afternoon, Byoki was trying, without much success, to lift a sea creature filled plastic bag above her head. She whipped her head around quickly, opening her mouth to announce that she was about to leave for the day. As little as Byoki wanted to go meet with Izaya, she had the strange sensation that the news he had for her was important.

Seeing as he was an information broker his knowledge would come at a price. And, of she couldn't even afford the cheapest of clothing, how could she honestly afford some tid-bit of truth? There wasn't even any food in the miniature refrigerator she kept in her apartment, her breakfast that morning had been a piece of melon bread stolen from a crushed vending machine. Byoki wasn't sure how it had gotten there but she was thankful for it. As she gave all her issues thought, she didn't realize the small puddle of saltwater that had formed beneath her bare feet.

In one terrible movement Byoki's gnarled appendages slid out from under her, went soaring through the air, and forced her onto her back. The once carefree octopus was sent in a glorious arc, floating straight above her head as if she were in some sort of twisted comedy movie. Her punishment tripled in pain as the helpless animal's bag snapped open, sending an avalanche of tentacles and dirty seawater to rain down on a stunned Byoki.

The customers erupted into laughter, cackling and giggling and chortling in unison to further Byoki's upset. Huge rose bushes of embarrassment bloomed upon her pale cheeks as she struggled to stand back up. Two painstaking slips later, the waitress had shoved her just as terrified underwater friend into it's new home and torn the address from Simon's hands. Byoki hurried out of the main room in hopes that she wouldn't start sobbing in front of people. A few mocking claps echoed from outside as she peeled the sopping wet uniform off her sadly flat chest. Why were people so cruel? If they stopped for one moment to think about the pain Byoki was in, perhaps it wouldn't be so funny. She was still weak from her eating disorder and such a set of falls would cause her back to sprout up in grotesque purple bruises.

Byoki blinked the years from her kind golden eyes and straightened out. No one would ever love someone so wimpy, if she wanted to live out her sister's dream, she'd have to toughen up. Men liked a strong, independent woman, right? Byoki let out a cutesy whimper. Who was she kidding? She knew absolutely nothing about love. The female pulled a parcel of sushi onto her arm, feeling disgruntled and discouraged. Maybe she'd simply skip her meeting with Izaya that day; information could wait for another day. Byoki thought she might simply go home and lay on her stomach with a Batman comic book and a bottle of sake. But, then again, the information broker seemed like the kind of person who would go out looking for her. She hopped on the tattered bicycle Russian Sushi used for deliveries, taking a deep inhale and glancing at the ribbon on her finger with a self-assuring smile.

* * *

><p><em><strong>It has been FAR too long since I updated this! But, I've been on hiatus for a while and I've been in and out of the hospital with a plethora of strange injuries~ Anyway, I hope you enjoy the fifth chapter of Simply Diseased! Don't forget to review, fav, and sub! Thanks for reading~<strong>_

_**~KC**_


	6. Chapter 6

"Delivery! From Russian Sushi!" Byoki called as she rapped on the door of an apartment. In all honesty, she was quite nervous about what might be behind it. Not because of any strange noises or weird smells drifting from within but because the door itself was forged from steel. She heard a few locks being undone, allowing a spurt of envy to sidle into her veins. The door at her apartment didn't have a lock anymore for reasons she was unsure of. It happened to feed her paranoia severely, but the therapist she went to wouldn't allow her to buy one, claiming it would help dwindle her fear of people breaking in. Byoki couldn't blame him, though, for he was much older and came from a time where entire towns didn't even know what locks were.

"Well it's about fuckin' time..." the tall, sturdy blonde known as Shizuo grumbled, cracking his knuckles and tugging the takeout from their spot laced between Byoki's thin fingers. They brushed against his coarse hands, which were leathery from being broken and torn so frequently. Her mitts felt silken in contrast to Shizuo's. He thought they were almost beautiful, with their almond shaped nails and unscathed surfaces. Shizuo let his honey colored eyes travel up the woman's arm, hoping to see who the owner of the hands was. He noticed the presence of two bandages wrapped around both wrists in his search and soon saw the face of none other than one of the few people who didn't cower in fear at the sight of him. It was the waitress at Russian Sushi, Byoki.

"Oh, sorry! I spilt an octopus on my head and had to change." she laughed, massaging that back of her head. Byoki let a warm smile grace her lips which had an adverse effect on Shizuo. He felt the oddest sensation boil deep within his entrails. It wasn't anger, per say, but it was certainly some sort of intense emotion. One that made him anxious, almost nervous. Byoki poked her head into the man's apartment to see what the insides looked like. There was a coffee table, covered in empty cigarette cartons and empty glasses, a rather dirty futon, and from what she could see there was a pillow-less mattress near a bathroom. They were the items she could imagine him owning, all except for a rather nice television hanging from one of the walls.

"An octopus?" Shizuo raised an eyebrow. He motioned for Byoki to step into his home while he gathered up the correct amount of money.

"Yeah, I was fixing the tank and I just can't seem to stay on my feet. I was pretty hurt at first but, in retrospect, it was pretty fucking funny!" Byoki prodded her new friend's television. She wished she had enough to afford one, it would be something to enjoy late at night when she panicked over her unprotected door. Anyone could simply stroll inside and attack her at any time. The sheer thought made her nervous and unsettled. What if the man who killed her family got inside? What if he was following her? A sickly tremor wrecked her body.

"Here." Shizuo bluntly held out his bandaged hand to show her a crumpled wad of yen. The other night he'd been rather angry, therefore adopting a different persona, so his quiet and nondescript manners surprised Byoki. She pounced on the money like a starving cat. Byoki didn't care to count it out, simply stuffing the bills in the left pocket of her plaid shorts before going back to peer at Shizuo's hand. The cloth wrap was decorated cheerfully, big spots of scarlet dotting the fibers that covered his knuckles.

"Can I fix your hand?" Byoki asked, far more interested in Shizuo's injury than her own job. Not to mention, she'd like to be as late as she could for her meeting with Izaya. The raven haired male seemed to be pure evil, like he didn't regard himself as a member of the human race. He acted with a sense of being higher than everyone else, as though he were perched on a pedestal. Byoki acted with the thought that she was no better than any other man or woman, however, which meant their personalities would be clashing constantly at the get together. The woman glanced up at her blonde haired acquaintance with hopeful eyes. He looked back, still awestruck by her disregard for his monster-like characteristics. And then he noticed something even more confusing. Byoki didn't look at him with a single fleck of fear, nor with a condescending glare, there was only that same look she gave everyone else. One filled with selfless heart, and joyous spirit. One that had been scarred deeply by a previous event, but that still carried on with generosity and care.

"Fine, if it'll make you happy..." Shizuo's voice trailed off, a slight quiver in his throat. He'd never been looked at with such kind eyes. And their simple, beaming light confused him more than anything else. More than the existence of a mythical fairy living in modern Japan, more than The Slasher, who confused the smartest of men, even more than his own power. But what Shizuo didn't know was that she remained unscathed by mortifying terror because she'd crawled through its darkest recesses. Byoki was herself because she had fought back the Hell within her own head. Something few can do, let alone survive to tell the tale. The darkness that lurked just below each ripple of dandelion yellow showed her true, unyielding pain.

Byoki quickly got to work on Shizuo's knuckles, surprised to see they had already scanned over since last night. She noticed the rosy pink that had sprung itself up on the man's cheeks and smiled to herself. He was, in an odd, unassuming manner, innocent. There was a sort of naive, child-like wonder within him, one that made Byoki somewhat sad. She knew it was because no one had dared come as close as she did. Except for the woman at the milk shop, his experience with her was why Shizuo would try to stay away from Byoki. But something, perhaps the subconscious and perhaps simple fate, had possessed him to order from the one restaurant he knew she worked at. So, as Byoki worked away at redressing his wounds, he attempted to keep his distance from the most kindness he'd received in years.

"All done!" Byoki chimed. She stood from her spot, leaning on the arm of Shizuo's futon, with a springy smile. The soft scent of peppermint and melon tickled his nostrils as the lanky female slunk past him. Byoki made a sharp turn towards the door, checking her watch to see it was nearly time for her meeting. The information broker hoping to speak with her lived in Shinjuku, a district near Ikebukuro. However, riding a bicycle there would take quite a long time. Byoki probably wouldn't make her appointment but, then again, Izaya didn't seem like one to care. She pivoted on her heel to turn back and wave at the still extremely confused male,

"Hopefully I'll see you soon, Shizu-Kun!" Byoki rushed off to reach her bicycle. She didn't actually own it, but her boss had said she could use it when she went out on deliveries. Apparently, delivery was a decently new addition to Russian Sushi and Simon was normally the one to go out and deliver to the citizens of Ikebukuro. But now that responsibility was completely Byoki's, partly because delivery didn't involve pouring tea and not spilling food on tables but also because Simon was a very intimidating man and people didn't much enjoy having their food shoved at them with a strong Russian accent. So the bicycle would probably become Byoki's source of transportation both during work and when she wanted to go somewhere without fretting over trying to find a pair of shoes. She'd stepped on a shattered bottle while bouncing from store to store last night and, though that didn't cause much of a problem, people were beginning to question her shoeless lifestyle.

Byoki went to straddle the bicycle, failing at first due to her minuscule height and then managing to reach her goal. She started peddling with a laid back attitude, still nowhere near excited to meet Izaya. Her surroundings were bland and colorless, aside from the occasional obscene work of graffiti, something she was used to by now. She'd only spent about a week in Ikebukuro now, but even the insides of her apartment building were decorated by tag art and spray paint. All of the grimy parts of town were easily understood by Byoki now even though she'd lived on somewhat of a pedestal in her old life. The thoughts of that time came flooding back, but something stopped her from remembering fully. A sleek black motorcycle had pulled up beside her, it's rider wearing a bright yellow helmet with gorgeous blue decals on the side. Byoki ceased her peddling so sharply she went flying forwards. Her stomach crunched against the handlebars, the momentum sending her heels over head into the pavement.

'Are you alright?' the shadowy woman pushed a PDA into Byoki's face. Byoki jumped from her uncomfortable position on the ground, her eyes growing wide. An eerie smile crept onto her face, so overjoyed it was almost terrifying.

"You're the Black Rider! Holy shit! Oh my god! I saw you the other night I was here! And your motorcycle went 'NEIGH!' and you don't have a head do you? Oh, so that's why you can't talk! You're the Headless Horseman! No, wait! You're the Ghost Rider! If you've got a chain and you use it as a whip I'm gonna have a fit!" the look in her golden eyes went from equality for everyone to complete idolization. She ignored the gash on her arm, entirely focused on the cyclist who'd pulled up beside her.

'You're Kokkaku Byoki, correct?' the allegedly headless woman held the same device out for Byoki to read. She nodded, absolutely ecstatic. Byoki had read hundreds of comics about a motorcyclist who had a skull for a head and vanquished evil doers, so her thrilled spirit was blatant. The American woman did a small dance, clapping her hands together and cheering with joy.

"Yes! Yes! This is absolutely amazing! Fantastical! Shocking! It's wondrous!" Byoki howled with sheer amazement.

'I'm here to take you to your appointment with Izaya. Is that what you're so excited for?' she inquired without speaking. Byoki shook her head with unnecessary speed.

"I'm excited by this city! It's fucking insane! I just dressed the wound of the strongest man in the world and now I get to ride with a mysterious motorcyclist! It's like a comic book! Ikebukuro is its own story, unfolding everyday! In America, everything was so mundane! But here it's all so new, so bright! Everything moves at a million miles per hour, the people are fascinating, and the night is more beautiful than anything I've seen! Life here is... Well, this reality is the best comic I've seen I suppose!" Byoki jumped onto the motorcycle with more enthusiasm than the rider had ever seen. This young woman was the sheer image of excitement and optimism.

* * *

><p>My apologies if things seem to be moving a bit fast, I'm just trying to keep Ikebukuro in character( even though it's inanimate X3). Hopefully you people enjoy the Shizu-Kun in this chapter~ I tried to make them a bit cuter and get a little further with Byoki's character. Any suggestions for further chaps? Critiques? Praises? Don't forget to review if you want more faster! Thanks for reading~<p>

~KC


End file.
